Q's lips pulled back into a snarl. "What are you doing, Suzette. It's not over. Go away."
She ducked her head, cheeks pinking at his temper. "I know. But allow me to do something before the final vow."
My blood was replaced with molasses. Thanks to Q's mind-twisting kiss nothing made sense. All I wanted was to be alone with him. I needed to bask in this sweet vulnerability between us.
Feminine hands landed on my shoulders from behind, tugging me from Q's embrace.
Hey! Stop.
"Trust us, Tess." Her-the woman who'd been singing. She smiled softly. "I'm Angelique-Frederick's wife. Hi."
My brain skipped, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Um-hi." I stumbled in her hold, struggling to stay attached to Q. "Please, let me go."
"Yes, let her go, Angelique. You don't want me angry and you're doing a damn good job," Q snapped.
Angelique shook her head. "Not yet. Trust us." She pulled harder.
My arms went from holding Q to holding air. The only part locked together was our fingertips. Q stood there, breathing hard, his face twisted with pain. He looked livid but too banged up to move. "Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"I will. Come with me, Mercer." Frederick jerked him, breaking the last remaining contact of our fingers. Q spun around, groaning in pain. "Roux-what the-" Frederick led him away, lending a hand as Q's stitched up legs seized from standing too long.
Let me go! I wanted to be the one who Q used as support. I wanted to hold him while his body healed.
Suzette cut off my vision, standing directly in front of me. "Remember when I said to trust me. That the second part was for him?" Her hazel eyes shimmered with nervousness. "Please … trust me."
I looked over her head to a fighting Q. Both Frederick and Franco whispered in his ear, holding his shoulders to prevent him causing more injury.
"You're ruining it, Suzette." I swallowed my anxiety, battling with trusting whatever she planned to do. "Please-"
She smiled. "It will make sense. Just let it happen." Her eyes flew to Angelique behind me. "Ready?"
"Yes." Angelique whispered in my ear, "It will be okay. I promise." Her hands fell to my sides just as Suzette gripped the front of my dress.
What the hell are they doing?
My eyes searched for Q but he was surrounded by his entourage. No doubt hurting himself trying to fight. Let them do it. Get it over with.
I relaxed a little and Suzette took my silence as permission.
With a sharp nod, Suzette ruined my life. The wondrous gown, so brilliantly made and oh so beautiful, ripped with the echoing sound of a lightning bolt.
The fabric ripped from the sides as if the weakness had been deliberately sewn into the dress, splitting like a well sliced cake.
It only took one tug to turn the white masterpiece into a disaster on the floor. It pooled, dead and forgotten by my feet.
What has she done?!
My heart exploded at being stripped of the only wedding dress I'd ever wear. All the preparation this morning for nothing-it ended up in pieces on the floor.
I blushed, bringing my arms up to hide my corset-clad breasts. The swell of flesh teetered provocatively on top of the tightly cinched lingerie. The black sexy pantyhose were on display, complete with saucy bow, and glittering red sequin shoes. My knickers were black lace, hiding my decency with nothing more than darker detailing between the legs. The garter belts clipped to the corset, imprisoning my legs with frilly black stays.
I'd been transformed from bride to whore.
I gasped as someone undid my hair with a sharp tug, spilling the careful up-do to waterfall down my back in lazy waves. The black feathers stayed, quivering in my strands.
Q shoved Frederick off him, his mouth gaping. "How dare you fucking touch her!" He stomped forward, undeterred by agony, zeroing in on me. But Franco wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him steadfast. Frederick recaptured him, mumbling in his ear.
"I don't care. I want none of this. What the hell are you doing!" Q wrenched his arm free from Franco's hold. "This wasn't your decision!"
Don't hurt yourself! My heart hurt for him. We were so private about our world. So sure no one would accept what we needed-so used to keeping it hidden.
To have his trusted friends expose us.
It hurt. A lot.
Standing in kinky lingerie sent embarrassment twisting my stomach, but it would be worse for Q. He hated others seeing me undressed. Especially dolled up like the slave he'd always wanted.